


Delinquent Marshamallows

by Crollalanza



Series: Marshmallows, Siblings and Drums [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Swearing, Vague Diasuga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tanaka Ryuunosuke is a boy with a mission. He's gonna be part of the best team in the Miyaga Prefecture and power Karasuno High Volleyball Team to Nationals. He's brash, loud and argumentative, which irritates his senpais no end. </p><p>But underneath it all, his sister Saeko sees another boy. One who's struggling to cope as the team fractures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delinquent Marshamallows

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote Splinters (which dealt with Suga and Daichi's reaction after Asahi left) the fabulous SterlingLee left me a comment regarding Tanaka, and how Asahi leaving affected him. So that got me wondering. And then, I wondered a lot more about Ryu and Saeko. I wondered so much, I ended up with a 6.5k story, not just about marshmallows. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Sometimes when he closes his eyes and tries real hard, Tanaka Ryūnosuke can almost see, but usually it’s a blur. This scares him because you should be able to remember something that important. And then he wonders if it’s _because_ he’s scared, or maybe it’s something innate in him – that he can’t remember ‘cause he’s thick, which is why he’s in Class One.

But closing his eyes rarely works. He can’t summon images or memories at will; they have to appear – unbidden (and not always welcome). It's like there’ll be a smell (sweet, like marshmallows – the white not the pink) and that will catapult him back in time. Or maybe he’ll hear a tune on the radio, and that will make him stop whatever it is he’s doing and he’ll be unable to do a thing except try to catch the elusive thought.

It’s a good job it doesn’t happen in class, ‘cause he has enough trouble keeping up, and not all the teachers are supportive.

So he’s no great shakes at school, but volleyball’s different. He will memorise moves in minutes, recite stats from games with ease, and power his way through a play until he’s got it right. So maybe he isn’t _that_ dumb.

II

 

Ryū’s middle school had been okay, but there’d been ‘issues’ as his form tutor put it (problems, his headmaster preferred to call it) and sport had been suggested as a way for Ryū to calm down, to work out the anger he felt at life on the pitch.

The question had always been what sport would be best. In the end, after trying several (he’d fancied baseball because he liked the feel of the bat in his hand) he’d been shoved towards the volleyball corner of the gym for one very simple reason: there was a net between Tanaka Ryūnosuke and his opponents.

With a team _around_ him, he couldn’t lash out in anger, and he found his place on one side of the net. Instead of hitting his fist into a guy’s face, or the wall, Ryū would pound out his demons on the ball; the anger he’d stoked up inside of him would erupt in the form of a spike and a triumphant yell. But the official practises were once a week, so the rest of the time he was a whirl of frustration ‘cause his teammates didn’t have his drive or need to continue after school.

From his first day at Karasuno gym, Ryū felt at home. Sure the older guys took the piss, and he couldn’t answer back ‘cause they were his senpais, but he didn’t mind that. They _were_ his senpais after all, and after he made the starting line-up, he figured respecting them, listening to their advice was only ever going to be a good thing. More importantly for Ryū, was that they took volleyball seriously. And maybe, one day, they’d take him seriously too.

At Karasuno, his shriek became a deep, hardened battle cry.

 

II

 

“Ryū -chan, breakfast!”

He grunted out a sort of thank-you and waited for the whack on the head and the demand for more respect. But she was pre-occupied, a small frown creasing her face as she examined her reflection in the back of the spoon.

“Did’ja win?” she asked.

 It was a throwaway question; she wasn’t interested in the game, and wouldn’t take notice of the reply. Ryū could tell her anything. He could shout that they’d stormed past the blockers, thrashed their opponents, and broken through the Iron Wall of Datekou, and she’d nod, going ‘uh-huh’ and pretend she understood.

“Well?” she repeated.

That was new. Why was she asking again?

“No.”

“Then you’re around this afternoon and can help me sort through the shed, yeah?”

Affecting a ‘don’t care’ attitude, he shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Good.” She put down the spoon, and touched his lightly on the head. Her hand felt cool and her fingers tickled his scalp as she pushed them through the shaven pile of his hair.

Ryū flinched, unnerved by the affection, and she stepped back.

“I’m looking for a box of sheet music. It’s in there somewhere, but we might have to move a few things,” she said in a much more matter-of-fact voice. “Won’t take long.”

“Sheet music? Why do you need that? You’re a drummer?”

“Still need music, Ryū-cha-aaan!” It was affectionate again, not the usual ‘dumbass’ insult thrown his way. He could almost feel her hand straying back to touch him, but instead he heard the minutest of sighs and she turned away to the sink. “Sorry you lost.”

“S’fine,” he muttered, and started on his breakfast.

“D’you want a hot chocolate? Might even be able to dig out some marsh-”

“No.” He swallowed. “Thanks, but I’ll stick to water, Neesan.”

 

 

Contrary to appearances, Tanaka Saeko was a girl who had an intuitive side. The flashy smiles, chopped hair, make-up and tight clothes gave the impression that she was cocky and brash, yet those that knew her understood it was a front. (Then again, she could count on the thumbs of one hand those that knew her – or _had_ known her, to be exact.) This front, assumed a few years before, had now become so much a part of her that sometimes when she stared into the mirror, she assumed the reflection was Saeko entirely, and not merely a part of who she was. A girl who could be remarkably perceptive, especially about those close to her.

Ryū was struggling with something. It had been three days since the match, and although she knew he always went a bit ‘in’ when they lost, he’d bounce back, looking firmly forward to the next game, and the practise sessions he attended.

She went through her checklist: school – they’d have heard if he was in trouble by now. Friends – none of them had been around, but that wasn’t unusual. Ryū often didn’t bother ‘cause his spare time was taken up with volleyball, so his other friends slid down his scale of priorities. Yuu was the only one who came over, but even then, if they’d been training extensively and had matches, the pair of them would take a break from each other.

Saeko stopped her reflection and snorted as she thought about Nishinoya Yuu. Irrepressibly loud, he reminded her so much of her little brother that she couldn’t stop laughing whenever he roared into their house. But she felt sad as well ‘cause Yuu’s presence, his overwhelming charisma, made her wonder at how Ryū could have been different if only ...

“Hey, Ryū-chan!” she called out from the lounge.

“Yeah?”

“How about you invite Yuu over for dinner after school tomorrow. I could cook, or we’ll grab take-away. I won’t make you sit with me. I could get a movie or something.”

She heard a thud as if he’d dropped a book, or maybe thumped his fist on the table.

“He’s  ... uh ... not around.”

“Hmm?” She got up and poked her head around his bedroom door. “It’s not the school holidays, where’s he gone?” She smiled then mimed a romantic heroine distraught over her lover’s death. “Tell me he ain’t ill, Ryū. I couldn’t bear it!”

He didn’t laugh, or even scowl at her for being ‘embarrassing.’ “Suspended,” he deadpanned.

“Whoa ...” She stepped further into the room, desperate to hear more. Maybe this explained his mood. “What did he do?”

“Uh...” He didn’t look up from ground. “Shoved the Dean and broke a vase.”

“That really ugly one outside his office?” Saeko asked, skirting around the fact that Yuu had pushed the Dean. “I wanted to smash that several times myself.”

“Dunno.” He didn’t look at her, but he could see his face had shuttered over and he wouldn’t answer any more questions.

“So he can’t come over?”

Ryū shook his head.

“Anyone else? Like, it doesn’t have to be Yuu, but if you want some of the other guys over, like that guy you’re always talking about .... Sawaruma-“

“Sawamura,” he corrected. And then he faced her, the almost shock, horror and awe evident on his face. “He’s my senpai. No _way_ he’d wanna come here.”

“Why not?  You guys play on the same team. You travel to games together. Invite all of them, if you want. Weekend’s free, and maybe if you hang out as friends, it’ll help team spirit -“

“No.” He spoke quietly, and very unlike his usual denials whenever she’d suggested something he didn’t want to do. “Neesan, I’m busy. I have this crappy book to read for school.”

“’K.”

 _Could be  a girl_ , she thought. _Or maybe he’s kinda confused_ , _which would explain why he’s always talking about those volleyball guys_. She turned back looking through the gap in his door. The poster girl, tits falling out of her bikini, beamed brightly down at Ryū. One corner was peeling off from the wallpaper, revealing the tear marks where previous posters had been stuck.

Nah, she didn’t think he liked boys in that way. He was too fixated on boobs and legs, voice quavering whenever her friends came over, and he didn’t know where to look. He’d scowl if she mentioned girls, and flush an ugly puce if she so much as hinted that he was cool and should have a queue a mile long of girls wanting to date him. (Okay, so she exaggerated, but her brother _was_ cool, and girls liked jocks– at least the girls in her class had.)

Which brought her back to friends. And his reaction, an almost resigned sigh, when she’d mentioned Sawamura, made it specifically about the team. 

“I’ve got work,” she said, picking up her coat. “Back later. I’ve left a note, okay.”

There was a grunt from his room. She left the house, zipping up her jacket, and started up her bike.

II

 

As soon as he heard her go, Ryū chucked the book on the floor and checked his phone.  He stared at the screen, willing it to beep or flash into life, but it was resolutely still.  He flicked onto his messages, but they were the same as ever. No one had called or texted since yesterday.

_‘Wanna come over.’_

The response was immediate, but not wanted.

_‘Can’t.  Been grounded.’_

_‘That sucks. U didn’t mean to hit him. Next weekend, then?’_

_‘Been grounded for the whole month, not just a week.’_

_‘Crap!’_

Nishinoya didn’t reply for a while, but just as Ryū was thinking he really should pick up his book, his phone vibrated again.

_‘Has Asahi come back?’_

_Fuck!_ His thumb hesitated over the phone, unwilling to type the reply.

The beep was insistent. _‘Has he?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Coward.’_

_‘Don’t start that.’_

_‘It’s true. You wouldn’t quit on us. Daichi-san and Suga-san, they’d never walk out.’_

_‘He hasn’t walked out. Only been 3 days.’_

_‘You been to practise?’_

_‘Yeah.’_

_‘Then he should too.’_

Ryū lay back on the bed, phone in hand, but he couldn’t think of a reply. Practise without Asahi and Noya had become gloomy. With the Captain morose but determined, exhorting them all to try harder, it was left to the Vice-Captain to boost morale, but even he struggled. Sugawara gave his time to the team, tossing endlessly for Ryū and the others, but he was wan, his energy and smiles depleted.

He picked up his book, determined to finish it this time so’s he wouldn’t get another detention, but the words didn’t make sense, blurring on the page.

He sniffed and blinked, trying to clear the sudden tears that had formed. It was the dust in his room, bringing on an allergy. He didn’t cry. Ever. Hadn’t for a long time. Fucking dust. Or maybe Saeko had been spraying that air freshener in his room like she’d threatened.

He hated being stupid, hated the fact that nothing made sense, and he had no one to ask. His teachers had already given up on him, astonished he’d even got into Karasuno. But last year he’d had an aim: get into Karasuno and play more volleyball. He was never gonna get into one of those elite schools – he had neither brains nor money for that – but Karasuno had been achievable. Saeko had done okay there. The uniform was cool, and the girls were cute.

And they’d once played at Nationals.

So it had been a no-brainer. He’d studied for the test, but now there was no one around who had time to help him.

“Try stayin’ awake in class,” Saeko would chide.

So there was no point asking her for help. Even if she had the time, what with her job and drumming, she wouldn’t want to spend it with her dumbass of a brother, who could barely understand a crappy class one book.

He got up and wandered to the kitchen to grab a snack. In the cupboard next to the biscuits was a crumpled packet of marshmallows. Out of date, but that didn’t matter, he pulled them out intending to munch on a few. But they were all pink, and while he knew it didn’t really affect the taste, he couldn’t bring himself to touch them. Instead, he put them back in the cupboard and left empty-handed.

He’d add marshmallows to the shopping list, or maybe not bother again.  Sixteen years old, and hot chocolate really wasn’t something he should be drinking anymore. A kid’s drink, made to send them to sleep over stories and lullabies. Ryū should be drinking coffee or tea or sticking to water, like Coach Ukai used to order them.

Would Asahi have walked out if the Coach were still in charge? Was that when it all started to go wrong, when he collapsed? Or had it been his training that forced them all to breaking point?

Ryū had felt like a winner under Coach Ukai, despite the harsh regime. He’d felt strong and in control. Losing a match was something you got over because otherwise you’d never play again. The old coach had had no truck with self-pity and misery over defeat. _Get strong and get even,_ he’d have shouted at them.

Maybe he could have stopped Karasuno’s Ace, but maybe Asahi would have walked earlier after being chewed out once too often.

Picking up the book, he focused at last. His teacher had threatened an end to club activities if he got another detention, and he wouldn’t be the next person to let down his captain.

II

It had been an impulse turning up here, but it was one she hoped would pay off. Seeing the boy lying on the grass in the front garden, Saeko leant over the fence.

“Hey!”

He didn’t hear her, so she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled.

Nishinoya Yuu jerked up immediately, saw her and started to smile. But his grin was replaced by a fed-up expression. She wondered if he’d ignore her (but they’d always got on reasonably well) so was gratified when he got to his feet and plodded towards her.

“Saeko-Neesan,” he muttered. “What are you doing here?”

“Just passin’,” she lied. The cafe she worked in was the other end of town. “So, Ryū says you got suspended.”

“Uh, yeah, Dean reckons I hit him, which I didn’t,” he said hastily. “I kind of lashed out.”

“Why?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “What got you so riled, Yuu-kun?”

“Uh ...” He chewed his lip a little, looking uncharacteristically timid, so she smiled (kindly and not her usual smirk). He swallowed. “Uh, one of the guys on the team. He’s quit, so I was ... um angry.”

“Ah. Not that Sawamura guy that my brother’s always going on about?” she probed.

“Nah.” Noya puffed out his chest. “Daichi-san would never quit. He’s got pride. Proper pride.”

“Pfft!” She flicked her hand in the air, as if it didn’t matter to her, but something had been bugging her brother, and Noya was confirming that. “Didn’t you have a crowd of first-years who left this year? You got over that.”

“Mmm, but this guy ...” Noya sighed, looking sad and belligerent all at the same time. “He’s our Ace. Like, he’s the guy who’s supposed to score. Even if he can’t, he’s the one who can power it over the net.”

“And he didn’t? Is that why you lost?”

Noya shrugged. “Date-Tech are a good team, and hard to beat, but Asahi gave up. That’s what got me mad and Suga-san so upset. You don’t give up. Ever.”

“S’pose not,” she replied and stood up straight. “But if it got too much, then I guess this Ahasi guy-“

“Asahi,” he corrected, adding quickly, “Ryū wouldn’t give up.”

“Maybe he can take over,” she said, brightening ‘cause that would give Ryū a boost. “He scores, doesn’t he?”

“Mmm, yeah, but ... well ... Asahi’s respected.”

“But not my brother?” she guessed.

“Uh...” Noya shifted his feet around, looking uncomfortable. “First-years have to earn respect. And Daichi-san is -” Then he frowned. “Why you askin’ me all this, Neesan?”

“No reason,” she replied, turning away. “I gotta go, or I’ll be late for work. Come round any time, Yuu-kun. Dad’s on nights all this week, so you won’t disturb him.”

“I’ve been grounded,” he muttered. “But thanks.”

 

She rode like a crazy person after that. Okay, so Ryū said she always drove like a crazy person,. But she wasn’t usually this distracted. She had good road sense and a love of speed, but today there were several near misses.  It wasn’t so much that she was worried about being late for work (they owed her enough time for when she’d covered for the other  waitresses) but that she couldn’t concentrate.  She didn’t want to be at work. She wanted to be tracking down the bastard of a Captain who refused to give her brother any credit. Okay he might be loud and boisterous. He might be the problem kid, who channelled his anger at the world through volleyball, but he wouldn’t let Karasuno down. Even the week he’d been suffering from flu, he’d dragged himself to school so he could practise. And he hated school. He hated the regime and the teachers treating him like a jerk because of his background and his haircut.  But Ryū loved volleyball, and if that asshole Sawamura couldn’t see that, then he was a crappy captain. The CRAPPIEST of crappy captains.

Working up into a fury, the next near miss was almost her last

“Hey, watch where you’re going, you stupid bitch!” yelled a prick in a sports car as she cut across him.

“SCREW YOU!” she shouted back, and just in case he didn’t get the message, Saeko jabbed her middle finger up in the air. The driver, not expecting aggression, wound up his window and sped away.

She watched him drive off, took several lungfuls of breath and started up the bike again. Dying on the roads would solve nothing, and, besides, Saeko had far too much living to do. She thanked whatever deity had been looking out for her, and rode on at a steadier pace. She’d figure out the solution when she didn’t have a bike between her legs. Maybe she could find out the Captain’s address from Yuu, or if he didn’t know, then she could hang around the school and wait for him to leave.

‘Cept she’d have to do that without Ryū noticing ‘cause he’d never forgive her.

She pulled up round the back of the cafe, took off her helmet, and strolled into the kitchens.

“You’re late.”

“I’m owed hours,” Saeko retorted, then thought better of her attitude. She liked the job. It fitted with the rehearsals and she seriously didn’t want to piss off the manager. “Sorry. Something came up at home, but I’ll stay late if you want.”

“Hey!” The manageress held up her hands as if in supplication. “I wasn’t complaining Saeko-kun. I was remarking ‘cause you’re usually on time and I was worried, okay.”She lowered her voice. “Also, Keiko’s whining about one of her tables. She was angling for a large tip, but then the guy’s friend turned up, and she’s spitting feathers.”

“Which one?”  Saeko poked her head through the door, scanning the cafe.

“Seven. The one in the corner.”

“Got it. Yeah, they look like a high school kids. Not big on tips.” She was about to laugh at Keiko’s sour face, but then she spotted something, and her heart skipped from her chest to her throat.

The gods that had saved her on the roads, obviously had plans, ‘cause the guy with his back to her had draped his jacket over the back of the chair.

A black jacket. A _zip up_ black jacket, she guessed because Ryū had one exactly the same. And when she squinted she could clearly make out the writing: _‘Karasuno High School Volleyball Club’_.  Her eyes flipped from his dark hair and to his companion. Fair, earnest looking, but with a cute smile. The type of smile that Keiko got her knickers in a twist over.

Oh!  Her lips curved because when Ryū had first started at Karasuno, she’d once rolled up on her bike to give him a lift home.  He’d been sauntering out of volleyball club with Yuu when the guy had called after him. She’d laughed, watching as Ryū bowed a little when the blond guy had handed over his water bottle. On the ride home she’d teased him about ‘respecting his senpais’ ‘cause it was something he’d never done at Junior High, and Tanaka had muttered something about Sugawara-san being cool.

Sugawara was the Vice-Captain - that much she knew. So could the guy with him be that shitty Captain giving Ryū a hard time?

“I’ll serve them, Keiko,” she muttered. “Take table twelve instead.”

“You look fierce, Saeko-san,” Keiko replied. “Gonna scare them into a tip?”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, and picking up her notepad, she stormed across to them.

They weren’t talking when she got to their table. In fact, if she hadn’t been so mad, she’d have smiled at the pair of them. However subtle they were trying to be, she could see them playing footsie under the table. 

“What can I get ya?”

“Huh?” They both jumped.

“Your order, guys?” she replied, tapping the pen on her pad.

“Uh...” It was the dark guy. “The other waitress took our order.”

“I was late on.” She leant over and smirked. “Let me take care of ya.”

He gulped, his hand fluttering nervously across the table as he reached for the menu. _First date_ , she thought, _or an early one. He’s not comfortable yet._

The blond guy, Sugawara, coughed. He lifted his face to her and smiled. “Coffee for me, and some noodles. Spicy, please.”

“How spicy, do you like it, sweetheart?” she teased, and was rewarded with a blush.

“Extra-spicy,” he ploughed on, then glanced at his companion. “Daichi?”

Ah-ha!  That was it, Daichi Sawamura. That _was_ him. The guy Ryū didn’t think he could live up to, who thought he was too good to come over to the Tanaka house.   Her attitude changed; she eyed him coldly.

“Not got all day,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

To his credit, he didn’t get pissy with her. A lot of men and women in this place assumed that a waitress was only there so they could vent their spleen, and that was _without_ her provocation, but this Sawamura guy faltered, then hurriedly scanned the menu. “Coke and ... uh ... noodles, but not spicy. Just chicken.”

“Too hot to handle, yeah?” she said, a faint accusatory note in her voice.

He looked at her, puzzled. “Have we met? You look familiar.”

Yikes, had he sussed her? “Not unless you’ve been in here, sweetie, and I don’t remember you.” She leant closer. “I don’t forget a face. Don’t forget anything.”

“Right.” He backed away, shuffling across the bench, a look of confusion and almost terror on his face.

“She’s scary,” she heard Sugawara hiss as she walked away.

“You better believe it, sweetheart,” she muttered under her breath.

It was when she brought their noodles that she overheard them talking. The conversation wasn’t heated, but it was intense, and obviously not about ‘them’ because they weren’t touching. Not at all.

“All I’m saying,” Sugawara was saying, “is that he’s enthusiastic, but if you-“

“Enthusiastic! He nearly had my head off with that serve!”

“But he didn’t mean it, Daichi.”

“He didn’t apologise.”

“Too shocked. And you’d started shouting before he had a chance.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“Well, yeah, but weren’t we in our first year?”

She scowled, and drew back from leaving their food, hoping to hear more.

“You weren’t, I remember that,” the Captain was saying. “Always calm and quiet.”

“Pfft, shaking like a blossom petal and too scared to complain. You can’t accuse Tanaka of being scared.”

Saeko scowled, they _were_ talking about Ryū.

Sawamura wrinkled his nose. “Nope, don’t s'pose I can.”  Looking up, he spotted Saeko and smiled tentatively. “Thank you,” he said politely as he pushed his glass to one side and made space for her.

 “Here you go, fellas,” she said, plonking the bowls down in front of them. “Spicy and ... uh ... feeble... I mean mild.”

He smiled, not reacting to the insult, and she grimaced again.  _Damn, you’re making it hard for me to hate you._

“He’s still a dumbass, though. And too bloody loud.”

_Screw you!_

“That,” Sugawara started to say as he dug his chopsticks into the noodles, “is because Nishinoya isn’t around. Tanaka’s yelling for two, Daichi.”

“He’s an idiot!”

“He’s young.”

“He’s an arse, and that serve was reckless.” Daichi rubbed his head.

“He’s experimenting!” Sugawara protested.

 “He’s a jerk.”

“He’s a team player.”

“He’s trouble!”

“He’s my brother!” Saeko snapped.

“Huh?” They both looked up at her, surprised, she thought, that she was still there.

“Tanaka Ryūnosuke, the loud ‘jerk’ you’re busy trashing is my brother, you asshole,” she spat at Sawamura. “And he has more idea of team spirit than you ever will.”

Sawamura gaped at her.

“Tanaka’s sister?” Sugawara asked.

“Yeah, that’s right, and let me tell you, that while the pair of you are out for a cosy date slagging off the team, my brother is at home reading the crap out of some book he hates, ‘cause he can’t afford another detention. If he gets one more then he won’t get to volleyball, okay?”

“We didn’t-”

“Didn’t think?” she demanded. “No why would ya? Ryū’s just this idiot problem child to you, ain’t he?”

 

“Hey!” The manageress bustled over. “What’s going on over here? Not arguing with my customers again, are you?”

 _Shit!_ She couldn’t afford another warning, not after being late. The manageress liked her because she could handle the pissy customers, but she’d come down hard on Saeko if she went too far. And these guys weren’t pissy.

“Your waitress,” Sawamura said, his eyes not leaving her face. Saeko swallowed. “Your waitress was talking sport with us. Sorry, it’s my fault. I got a bit heated.”

“Ah, sport!” The manageress smiled, relieved it was nothing serious. “Don’t get this one started.  Her brother’s some hotshot volleyball player, or he’s going to be. No one’s allowed to diss that sport.”

“We’ll bear that in mind,” Sawamura said gravely.

“No problem, but she has other customers, guys, so don’t keep her too long, okay?” replied the manageress.

“Just getting refills,” Saeko murmured as the manageress, now placated, wandered back to the kitchen. She turned to Sawamura. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s Saeko, is that right?” Sugawara asked, his voice calm.

Her eyes narrowed as she switched her focus to him. “Mmm, how d’you know?”

“Nishinoya told me,” he replied. “You picked up your brother from school once on a motor bike.” He grinned. “We all thought you were cool, and Tanaka was lucky to have a sister like you.”

“Don’t humour me, Sugawara,” she retorted, but nonetheless, she felt humoured by his smile.

“You know my name?” he asked, astonished.

“My brother might have mentioned you,” she mumbled. Then she turned to Sawamura. “Look, I’m sorry for sounding off, but I get kinda defensive and clucky over Ryū, so ... uh ... don’t take it out on him, alright?”

His eyes were round in astonishment. “Um, of course not.”

“I know he’s loud and annoying and can be trouble,” she continued, “but really, your team’s the only thing making sense to him right now. And ...” She bit her lip. “I don’t know what you know about my brother, but Junior High wasn’t great for him. I’d like to say that Karasuno’s straightened him out, but really it’s you guys. So ... uh ... you won’t write him off, will ya?”

She was staring at Sawamura, her slate-grey eyes boring into his coal black ones, but it was Sugawara who answered.

“We wouldn’t do that,” he said gently.

And then Sawamura gave her a smile, one of genuine warmth. “Tanaka’s a great guy. He gets us all fired up, but I am sorry if he feels ... uh ... undervalued. I guess sometimes I don’t see beyond his ... um ... noise.”

“Cool.” She picked up his glass and Sugawara’s coffee cup. “Next one’s on the house, guys, but ... er ... you won’t tell Ryū I’ve spoken to you, will ya? Only he’ll get mad at me.”

They both shook their heads.

“And you won’t say you saw us?” Sawamura replied.

“Nah, ‘course not. Never met you before in my life,” she said, flashing both of them her widest smile.

II

Saeko was in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she sorted through a box. Ryū recognised it as the one they’d retrieved from the shed at the weekend and was surprised she hadn’t sorted through it earlier ‘cause she’d seemed so eager.

She was sniffing, and didn’t look up when he shouted he was home. Instead she muttered something about a snack in the kitchen, and milk in the fridge if he wanted a drink.

“Great.”

“How was practise?”

“Good,” he lied. It hadn’t been good. Asahi had skipped again, Daichi and Suga-san had been distracted, muttering together. On top of that, Ryū hadn’t hit a decent serve all afternoon, for the second practise session in a row, and now his shoulder ached.

“You’re early,” she said, still looking down and not at him.

“Uh ... yeah, we usually go for pork buns after, but Daichi-san was busy, and the others didn’t feel like it.”

She frowned a little. “D’you want food now? Only we’ve got fish nimono, I could heat up. Dad’s already left.”

“Sure.”

There was something flat about her voice. Something very un-Saeko- like, ‘cause usually she’d have been nagging him about his muddy shoes. He peered closer. Her eyes were red. 

“You okay?”he asked gruffly.

“Damn box is dusty. I must’ve got something in my eye.

He dumped his bag on the floor. Usually she yelled at him to leave the bag in the hallway, or to take it straight to the laundry and put his kit in the basket. (‘OR LOAD THE DAMN MACHINE YOURSELF!’ she’d screech.)  But Saeko sniffed again and after putting the lid firmly back on the box, got to her feet.

It was when she was in the kitchen, clattering around with bowls and swearing at the radio when it played a song she hated, that Ryū noticed the photograph. It hadn’t fallen there, but the small square was tucked underneath the top music sheet, Saeko had been sorting through.  Reaching over, he picked it up, then seeing it was old, he moved his fingertips to the edges, not wanting to smudge it.

A figure grinned up at him. Quite short, and with choppy black hair, she carried a wadaiko drum, and was clearly part of a group, ‘cause other people were next to her, walking towards ... Ryū squinted. They were walking towards the main square in the town, so clearly this was a festival. He stared closer. She had a smile like Saeko’s (and his, he supposed) but apart from that, she seemed slighter, her eyes rounder, her face more delicate.

“Grub’s up!” Saeko called, walking through the door carrying two bowls. She stopped abruptly, staring at him with a mixture of horror and sadness on her face.

“This is Mum, isn’t it,” he stated.

“Uh ... yeah.”

“She played wadaiko– like you.”

Saeko nodded. “Before she married, yeah.”

“Is that why you do?”

“Um ... probably.” Saeko’s voice was thick, wavering and suddenly unsure. She placed the two bowls of nimono on top of the box, and manoeuvred her way to sit next to him. “Where did you find that?”

“It was stuck to one of those sheet music things,” he muttered. Then he cleared his throat. “Thought Dad got rid of all the photos.”

“He did,” she murmured, “but I guess this one missed the purge.”

The purge. It was how he remembered it, the day six months after his mum had died, when his dad went through every album and picked out all the pictures. Everything with his mum in was to be destroyed, but the task was too hard, and in the end, he piled the family photo albums into a heap and set fire to them in the garden.  Saeko had shrieked at him, tugging his sleeve and burning her fingers as she tried to pry an album off the bonfire, but their dad had held firm.

Ryū had been seven, she’d been thirteen, but even then she’d been a firebrand, shouting at her dad, refusing to show respect because in her mind what he was doing was wrong. Even the sudden backhander hadn’t shut her up.

“Why did he burn them?” Ryū hadn’t asked that in years, although he’d remembered the day so clearly.

“He thought memories were too painful, I guess,” she said.

But she sounded wary, and Ryū wasn’t sure she was telling the entire truth. He examined the photograph again. His mum looked so vital, so happy, so ... so NOT the last image he had of her, lying in a hospital bed, emaciated and doped up on morphine.

“I don’t -” He stumbled with his thoughts, a lump forming at the back of his throat.

Saeko touched his arm. “What?” she whispered.

He took a breath, deep, gulping, painful as it tugged inside of him as he confessed his most bitter secret. “I don’t remember her, Neesan.  I can’t remember what she looked like. I try, but all I imagine is an older version of you, and –” He paused holding out the photo. “She wasn’t like us much, was she?”

“What _do_ you remember, Ryū-chan?” Saeko asked gently.

“Uh ... she liked singing to the radio, didn’t she?”  Saeko nodded. “And hot chocolate. I remember the hot chocolate and the marshmallows she’d treat us to. And she always picked out the pink ones, so I wouldn’t have to eat them.” He was gabbling now, desperate to remember.  “And ... and... there was perfume. I think she liked roses, and cooking chicken at the weekend when Dad was around. And ... marshmallows. Fucking marshmallows piled up in my cup. I used to yell, didn’t I, if a pink one appeared. Fucking brat!”

Her hand slipped to his head, and then she hauled him closer, so his face was now resting on her shoulder. She smelt of the fish nimono, and something floral. She smelt of home and comfort and everything he ached for, everything he hoped his mum had been. But Saeko had been his ‘mum’ for longer than his real mum, and he’d never thanked her, just given her grief, as he’d given his mum grief over stupid dumbass things like pink marshmallows.

“You remember tons,” she whispered. “And we are like her, you know? She was louder than any drum, and liked to laugh. And she loved us, Ryū-chan. She loved us so much.”

“Even though I was a brat.”

“Yeah, and even though I used to wind you up,” Saeko replied. She took the photo from him, and placed it on her knee. “Guess I should tell ya, Ryū, but I used to drop those pink marshmallows in your cup, just to see what would happen.”

“I KNEW YOU DID!” he exclaimed. “Mum said it had to be an accident, but I coulda sworn they were all white, and then I’d look away and there’d be a pink one floating in the centre.”

“What can I say?  Watching my brother lose his shit over a blob of pink in his hot chocolate was funny.”

She started to laugh, the photo quivering on her knee, and as he looked, it was as if his mum was laughing, too. He felt lighter; the weight of her absence no longer hovering like a black cloud, but rather a faint grey mist, cloaking the pair of them.

“So,” Saeko said a short while later as they ate their food. “You gonna tell me what’s been going on? I’m guessin’ it’s got something to do with that volleyball club of yours.”

He sighed. “It’s nothin’ much. We lost a match and someone’s left. Not sure he’ll come back.” He scraped his spoon across the bottom of the bowl, finishing every last drop. Despite everything she said about her cooking, his sister cooked a mean nimono.

“Won’t you get new kids next year, though?”

He nodded. “Not sure who’d wanna come to Karasuno, though. Anyone good’ll go to an elite. Yuu’s the only real talent we have now.”

“Cept you,” she replied. “My little brother’s gotta be good at something.”

He shrugged. “I’m nothin’ special, Neesan.”

“Hey!” she rubbed his head. “You’re a Tanaka, and we’re cool.”

II

It’s later after Ryū’s cleared the plates, and is now in his room finishing homework, that she makes the hot chocolate. Two mismatched mugs, a bit like the pair of them, but fundamentally the same.

“Hey, if you want,” she says, setting down one cup on his bedside table, “we could catch a movie this weekend.”

“Uh ...” He looks up from his books, about to answer, but just then his phone beeps.

She waits by the doorway, taking quick sips of her drink, as his face splits into an incredulous smile.

“Good news?”

“Could say that. Uh, that was Daichi-san – my captain. He ... uh ... wants to know if I can go to the Junior High tournament with him and Suga – that’s the Vice-Captain.”

“Oh, really.” She raises her eyebrows affecting astonishment to hide the surge of glee waving inside of her.

“Yeah.” He can’t stop grinning, just like their mum carrying the big drum in front of her, it’s as if he’s lit from within. “So, um ...”

“You’re not free for your big sis,” she says and sighs melodramatically.

“’Nother time, Neesan, yeah?”

“Sure,” she replies, and leaves the room, calling back, “Enjoy your hot chocolate, Ryū-chan.”

He lets out a roar a few moments later, and she laughs raucously, knowing he’s discovered - right in the centre of a cloud of white - one solitary pink marshmallow.

****************************************************************************

Additional Notes:

I’m not sure why I called this ‘Delinquent Marshmallows’ but it seemed like a good idea at the time   
Saeko’s going to get her own story really soon which will explain more about her mum ... I hope.

I've just fixed the shitty punctuation in the dialogue. Hope it wasn't too awful to read before. (Nat will shoot me.)


End file.
